


May 2, 2015

by tahirire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-07
Updated: 2010-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: The boys are in a better place emotionally. Dean thinks past his hurt at what he saw in Sam's heaven, and gets Sam a golden retriever puppy for his birthday. Schmoop ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May 2, 2015

Five years since the reset and the entire world's already forgotten about it or explained it away. Not Dean.

Most days he can shrug off the shadows, toss the rod another time and leave it all behind while the river - just made of water, blood is a thing of the past - laps gently at the dock.

Most days, but not today.

Today is the one day a year when Sam goes quiet. He hides behind a book or the wheel of his second-hand pansy-ass hybrid car, and Dean can see the memories in his eyes.

Sam never celebrates, but that's not so new. Sam's birthday has always been on the Winchester calendar of Days That Suck. _Hell,_ Dean thinks, _they could celebrate_ both _of their births and deaths today if they really wanted to._

As if the both of them sharing a death date isn't enough bad memories to last any one person a lifetime, Sam had to go and make it worse. Dean remembers trying to talk him out of it, telling him to wait just one more hour - it seems stupid now but at the time it felt _important_ , even if Dean couldn't say why - but Sam wouldn't listen.

Five years since his brother let the Devil in, and the whole world has already forgotten about it, or explained it away. But not Dean.

The small blond mass of fur in Dean's lap wriggles impatiently, and when Dean picks her up to eye level, she responds to his silent query with a bored yawn.

"I know. And I'm sorry, I am, but you can't go outside. I want you to be _clean_ when Sam gets here, you got that?" Dean wrinkles his nose at the large brown eyes, gazing at him inscrutably. "What?"

She whines a little, blowing a puff of puppy breath right into Dean's face. He's about to tell her that puppy breath isn't all that it's cracked up to be when he hears the whine of the hybrid in the driveway.

"Showtime," He tells her, ruffling her fur. He sets her down strategically in the hall. Sam will have to pass her to make his customary don't-talk-to-me dash up the stairs. Dean's betting he won't get too far. Not this year. "Look cute," he adds, "'cause you ain't sleepin' in my room."  
   
Sam walks in with a newspaper in one hand and a giant coffee in the other. Dean grins while his brother juggles them back and forth, fumbling for the lock on the door. Soon Sam's going to wish he had about a billion of those giant coffees. Nothing causes sleep deprivation like a puppy.

Dean checks on Sam's present. She's sitting stock-still, staring up - and up - at Sam with her head tilted to one side like he's the hugest thing she's ever seen. She looks at Dean, and he gives her a nod. She's all of four pounds and probably has fluff for brains, but she seems to get it anyway.

Sam is just finishing with the lock, paper between his teeth and coffee in the crook of his arm, when she makes her move.

Her needle sharp puppy teeth sink straight into Sam's ankle. Sam lets out a startled yelp and spins, the puppy goes tumbling off into the living room, and Dean catches the coffee just in time.

"What the -" Sam starts, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Dean sets down the coffee and puts out a hand, the don't-kill-me strongly implied. "It's - uh. Happy birthday?"

Sam turns to see a tiny face peeking out from behind the faded wallpaper. He blinks. So does the puppy.

"You ... you got me a retriever puppy?" Sam whispers.

Dean feels like he's on ice and he's hearing those cracking noises, but Sam is crouching down so that's probably a good sign. "It's about time, right? I mean, we've been here for a while, and -"

Sam extends his arm to her, moving slow, like he's worried she'll be afraid of him. "Girl or boy?"

Dean takes a breath. "Girl. I know your last one was a boy, but -"

She chooses that moment to move, and she skips Sam's outstretched hand completely, aiming a well-placed jump-and-lick straight at his face instead. "Woah, hey!" Sam scoops her up into his hands, and she's so little she almost disappears. Sam grins. He can't take his eyes off of her.

Awesome.

"What's her name?" Sam asks, chuckling as she tries to climb into his jacket pocket.

There is some fancy name on her papers, but Dean never was much for those. Dean listens to his brother, laughing on his birthday, and he picks a new one.

"Hope."

"Hope," Sam repeats. She sneezes in his face.

And it's perfect. 

  


_Hope, 9 weeks_

  



End file.
